Green in the Teeth

Maya's new __iPhone__ buzzed on her nightstand at 11:47 PM. __*You up?*__ The text from Jake made her stomach do that thing where it felt like swallowed bubbles.

Tomorrow was the __padel__ tournament. Jake had asked her to be his mixed doubles partner three days ago, and she'd said yes before her brain could process that THE Jake Hutchinson—who sat two rows behind her in AP Bio, who everyone knew was low-key gorgeous—had actually spoken to her full sentences.

Now here came the late-night text. Maya stared at the screen, thumbs hovering. __*Yeah can't sleep lol*__ She immediately cringed. "Lol"? Really? She was practically handing him her +__+__+V card on a silver platter.

__*Same u nervous about tomorrow?*__

__*Nah you got this.__* Her breath actually hitched.

Except here was the thing: Maya had never played padel in her entire life. She'd told him she was "pretty good" because in that moment, version of herself who was cool and athletic and casually talented had momentarily possessed her body. That version of Maya was now gone, leaving regular Maya to figure out how to not humiliate herself in front of half the school.

The next day, her mom made her "brain food" for breakfast—a smoothie with way too much __spinach__. Maya gulped it down, trying not to taste the lawn clippings.

At the courts, everything happened at once. Jake arrived looking effortless in a sleeveless tee that showed actual muscle definition. His friends were there. Her friends were there. Suddenly this felt less like a casual game and more like a performance review.

"You ready?" Jake grinned, and his teeth were annoyingly perfect.

"So ready," Maya said, and that was her second lie of the weekend.

The game started. She missed the first serve. Then the second. Jake's forehead creased but he kept it together. "You got this," he said again, softer this time.

She actually didn't got this. She was terrible. But then something shifted—maybe it was desperation, maybe she stopped overthinking—but suddenly she was __running__ toward the ball without deciding to, her racket connecting with a satisfying THWACK. Point. Again. Another.

They were actually winning. Jake shot her this look—like, *holy crap, you're good*—and Maya felt like she'd swallowed lightning.

After they won, Jake's friends clustered around. Maya was mid-sentence, telling some story she hadn't realized she was telling, when Jake stepped close.

"Hey," he whispered, "you got a little—" He gestured to his own teeth.

The spinach. From breakfast. It had been there. The whole. Match.

Maya felt her face burning hot as Jake's friends dissolved into laughter. But then Jake started cracking up too—not mean laughter, but the real kind, head thrown back, no sound coming out.

"That was iconic," he said, wiping his eyes. "You absolutely destroyed everyone on court with green stuff in your teeth the whole time. That's low-key legendary."

And somehow, Maya started laughing too. Not the polite laugh she used around teachers, but the real one.

Her phone buzzed later that night. __*Same time next week?*__

Maya smiled, teeth thoroughly brushed this time. __*You're on.__*